


A Merchants Brat

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses (2016), The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The Wars of the Roses Fiction, The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: Edward IV is annoyed with Thomas Grey, but why?





	A Merchants Brat

Eltam Palace  
1476

He had risked his fury, and by god he had got it. Thomas Grey sat silent as the King had told him. He sat looking at the floor as the older man paced, he jumped as the table flew, quite suddenly, across the room. “You ungrateful, arrogant, swine of brat! I could wring your fucking neck if your mother wouldn’t wring my balls for it!” That image alone was enough to make Thomas cringe, in too many ways.   
He sighed as Edward went on. “I gave you everything, in generosity, I gave you titles and lands and wife of higher status than you deserved, yet here I was supporting you, because I thought-“ he broke off to let out a low, disbelieving chuckle. “Quite naively that you were respectable enough to have earned it. Yet here I am looking like the fool because William fucking Hastings was right and I was wrong. You haven’t changed from the common brat I met at the side of the road. By god I should have left you there.”

Thomas frowned. Why was his mother, the only woman who could stop this onslaught now, not here? Why was she not hearing every single word? Why could she not see her husband’s aggression? An aggression, Thomas recalled, she has claimed never to have seen. Maybe this, this would change her opinion of the man she idolised at times. At least he man she adored more than her sons - or adored the idea of him. 

Either way, Thomas remained silent, refusing to let his tongue go slack - for if he said a word he was not sure Edward would not cut it out. So how had all this started? Thomas tried to recall, his mind addled by the words his step father spewed. 

*

Elizabeth Shore walked down the corridor, carrying a basket filled with flowers. Flowers freshly picked to adorn the King’s chamber in flowers; to make it smell sweet as Mistress Shore called it. 

Thomas Grey smirked as he watched, stepping away from his gathering and toward her. “Don’t you smirk at me Thomas Grey. You return to your friends and leave me alone, I’ve had enough of your attentions for one week thank you.”

“You don’t mean that, it’s only Tuesday.” 

Elizabeth smiled, putting down the basket a moment. “One hour in your presence is quite enough thank you, much less half a day.”

“Do you forget whom your talk to? Hmm? You are speaking to the queens son and you will show me more respect than that.”

“You speak to the Kings mistress and you believe me when Ned has granted me permission to speak to those in his court who harass me as though I were him himself.”

Thomas grinned. “Is that so? Well madam, I’ll grant you your sharp tongue then. Though not willingly, for it speaks for the king and who am I but a mere mortal to suggest otherwise?”

She retook her basket about to walk on when Grey blocked her path. “But whilst you may have the kings tongue Indeed, in so many ways, you do not have his presence do you?”

“I do not understand.” She looked down.

“Oh, do not lie to me, you understand well enough.” Grey stepped forward, each step pushing her further back until she was pressed flat against the wall, his proximity so close she could feel the heat of his body. His hands pressed against the wall either side of her body. He whispered. “I could not do this to the king madam, you do not have his strength.” 

“I have a knee to connect with your balls.”

Thomas laughed, a genuine laugh. “Then you’d be cast to the lions, because I doubt Ned gave you permission to do that.”

“He gives me free rein, you’ll find. If that means punching you in face, Lord Grey, then believe me, I will do it. My body is his, not yours, and much as you may think I find you irresistible.” She frowned. “I think I’ll pass on your repeated advances.”

She shrieked as Thomas’s hand went to her breast, his lips connecting with her cheek. The halls had gone silent, her eyes fixed on the target Thomas Grey did not see as he whispered. “I may not give you that ch-“

He hit the ground as the hand pulled him away and discarded him. “My love? Are you alright?” She nodded, sinking in to Ned’s embrace whilst William Hastings eyed Grey with eyes burning with a smug, satisfied hatred. 

^

“I could have you hung for less than that! And yet I must spare you, not because there is any love Thomas, but because I love your mother and Christ it would kill her - and me.”

Thomas made the mistake of smirking, only so slightly but he caught it. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face! God help me I will!” He slapped Thomas with a back hand, stopped from a second blow as the doors opened. 

“What in the name Christ and all that is holy is going on here?” Elizabeth Woodville spoke in a quiet firm voice. “Strike him again, and I swear, you’ll not see me in your bed-“

“That is not your-“

“Place? Edward there is more than one way to avoid your advances. You have your whore anyway. And I assume that is what so enraged you.” Edward fell silent, stepping away, defeated. Thomas was about to get up, to leave when his mother spoke. “Do not Thomas, I have done with you either. How dare you? Did I not raise you better. She is the kings mistress and whether or not we both much like that? You obey Ned’s rules. If for nothing more than he is both the king, and by marriage he is your father. So you respect him and obey his word.”

“If for nothing more than morals.” Edward spat. “And the law of England.” 

His wife ignored him. “And I raised you better than to grope such a woman, in private or public. I do not expect you’ll be loyal to your wife, Thomas. After all, your role models have hardly led the way. But choose a willing one, and choose of some standing. Not a merchants wife a brat."


End file.
